


adronitis;

by clxude



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, mentions of under age drinking, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8334877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clxude/pseuds/clxude
Summary: Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someoneThere's little Yaku Morisuke won't do for his soulmate, whomever that may be, but he has to draw the line somewhere.He just never thought it would happen before they ever met.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for amoxli on tumblr - _I saw on your ao3 that you take requests, and absolutely no pressure but if so could you possibly do a yakulev soulmate AU??? Like where you're born with a tattoo (first words, a symbol, whatever)????_
> 
> edited by sarcasticspacenerd on tumblr; any remaining mistakes are my own

_ Please don't mention all of the ramen noddles, _  Morisuke thinks as the cashier scans the libero's massive pile of instant ramen.

 

Luckily, the cashier doesn’t comment on the ramen, or the five sports drinks also crammed into the basket, which is better than how the normal cashier reacted last week, when Morisuke came in to buy the same items. It’s nice when his unhealthy eating habits aren’t commented on, almost as nice as the cashier’s face, and his large green eyes.

 

“Did you have trouble finding anything?” the cashier asks, smiling. It’s too big, too wide, but somehow still endearing. 

 

Morisuke’s head jerks up to look at the gray-haired man. Their eyes meet, and Morisuke blushes. He hopes the cashier is just spring help, a broke college student trying to scrape together some extra cash before the start of the next academic year. He’s tall enough to be, at any rate. He makes Morisuke feel even shorter than he actually is, something that if they were to ever meet again, Morisuke would never forgive him for. 

 

It doesn’t help that he’s really fucking hot.

 

“No,” he says, quick enough that he almost chokes on his own spit after he realizes he forgot to answer. 

 

“I’m glad,” the cashier smiles. Morisuke has to remind himself that he says this to everyone he checks out, and that he’s not special, not matter how his heart flutters. When he hands Morisuke his bag of ramen, their hands brush against each other briefly. It leaves the libero feeling like fingernails are trailing up his spine, too shallow to draw blood, but still deep enough to hurt.

 

He nods, tells the cashier to have a nice day, and tries his hardest to not run out before the cashier can respond.

 

It’s not running, it’s not a retreat; it is simply knowing when to back off.

 

…

 

Morisuke’s shivering, staring at the pool with one eyebrow raised. Kuroo gestures to it excitedly.

 

“We’re seniors now, Yaku. Don’t you want to celebrate?”

 

Morisuke scoffs. “It’s March. I’m not going swimming with you.”

 

But there’s a gleam in Kuroo’s eyes, one that Morisuke has grown familiar with over the last two years. He starts to back up in the direction of the gate, and Kuroo just smiles, smirking like a cat.

 

It’s too cold to go swimming, too cold to be pushed, fully dressed, into a pool. Morisuke doesn’t like swimming even on the warmest of days, let alone the tail end of march. Water drips from his hair and into his eyes as he surfaces; he pushes it back to glare at Kuroo.

 

“You’re a piece of shit,” he says, treading water even as he can feel his fingers turning blue. “I can’t - “

 

He doesn’t have a chance to finish before Kuroo is jumping in the water beside him, his half hearted cannonball sending waves over Morisuke’s head. He spits out chlorine and attempts to splash Kuroo, but the other boy swims out of range, causing little more than ripples.

 

Morisuke glares at him before swimming to the ladder and climbing out. He yanks off his gray sweater vest and tie. His fingers shake as he unfastened the buttons on his shirt. His entire body is racked with shivers, and his fingers are purple.

 

“You’re a piece of shit,” he says again.

 

Kuroo pouts, _ “Mori.” _

 

“Suck a dick.”

 

He turns around, wincing as he shoes squelch with every step. There’s no way they’ll be dry in time for class tomorrow, even if he stuffs them full of newspapers. Kuroo climbs out after him, shaking his hair out like a wet dog. Morisuke wrinkles his nose; Kuroo’s a good friend for the most part, but times like these make Morisuke wonder whatever lead to their friendship.

 

He’s reaching up to take a towel from the top shelf when Kuroo speaks.

 

“What’s on your back?” Kuroo sounds amused, or at the very least, entertained. “It looks like a tramp stamp. Did Yaku-san go out and get a tattoo without mommy’s permission?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Morisuke whips his head around, standing on his toes and arching his back in an attempt to see the base of his spine. “I didn’t…”

 

He trails off when he sees the black script, nothing more than chicken scratch craved against back. The characters are messy, jumbled, the lines changing in thickness seemingly without care. It shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t be colored, just raised skin - 

 

“Oh, that’s what it is,” Kuroo says quietly. “It has to be recent, then, right? That’s good. Better chance of finding them, and all.”

 

Morisuke doesn’t reply, can’t. His eyes are still stuck on the tattoo. He’s still in high school, he’s too  _ young.  _ And who can it even be? Morisuke’s barely even left his house in the last month, let alone met anyone new. He doesn’t  - 

 

“Do you want to know what it says?” Kuroo asks, yanking the libero from his thoughts. His voice sounds just as shaky as Morisuke feels.  “I could tell you. It’s just dark enough to make out the words.”

 

He doesn’t trust himself to answer, just nods his head, finally settles back down with his feet firmly on the ground.

 

_ “He’s too small for that much sodium.” _

 

He turns around, expecting to see Kuroo laughing to his own shitty joke. But he's not - dead serious, eyes wide, face pale. It could just be the temperature, but Morisuke feels like all of his internal organs have been frozen with liquid nitrogen.

 

He doesn’t even bother to glare as he asks Kuroo if he’s joking, just prays silently that he is. 

 

“I wouldn’t joke about this. You know that, Yaku.”

 

And Morisuke doesn’t care about what he knows, just runs at Kuroo, slamming into the middle blocker. He keeps running, pushing Kuroo until the black haired boy crashing into the pool.

 

Kuroo surfaces fast and pushes his hair out of his face, before flipping Morisuke off with both hands.

 

“I can’t have a soulmate who think’s I’m small!” Morisuke yells. It’s freezing outside, but he can still feel his cheeks heating up. “I can’t be matched with someone like that!”

 

“Mori - “ Kuroo begins to say, but the libero just shakes his head and walks over to where his clothes are piled.

 

“You know how much I hate it when people comment on my height, and you know there’s little I wouldn’t do for my soulmate. This...this is more than I can do, Kuroo. I can’t be with someone who is always thinking about my height. I just… I can’t do that.”

 

He walks through the gate before Kuroo can respond.

 

…

 

Kuroo shows up at his house the next day, holding a Tupperware container. Morisuke’s half asleep when he stumbles down the stairs and opens the door, delirious and loose, allowing for Kuroo to push him out of the doorway with ease.

 

“Fuck off,” Morisuke whines, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. He doesn’t want to see Kuroo at ten o’clock in the morning, or anyone for that matter. “Why are you here so early? Why can’t you torment Kenma?”

 

Kuroo rolls his eyes and slides off his shoes before proceeding to the living room. “Love you too, Yaku. But, I already saw Kenma today. Found out he doesn’t like raisins, so I brought you these.”

 

Yaku wrinkles his nose to the idea of raisins. It’s too early in the morning for gross foods, just like it’s too early in the morning for Kuroo. “How did you not know that? I thought you knew everything about him.” 

 

“I don’t like them either,” Kuroo explains, “so my mom never made anything for him with them. But, ah, I ate all of the cookies she made for him the other day? So she made him oatmeal raisin, since she knew I wouldn’t eat them, but then he wouldn’t eat them either, and I knew you were upset yesterday, so I figured you might like them.”

 

“Why would I want your disgusting cookies?”

 

“Hey!” Kuroo shouts, frowning. “My mom made these, dude.”

 

“Get the fuck off my couch, then.”

 

“Fine,” Kuroo pouts. “I’m sure Bokuto will like these more than you ever could, anyway, Mori-chan.”

 

“Bokuto is allergic to grapes. Did you already forget about the training camp last year?”

 

“Oh, shit. Yeah, that happened,” he laughs and scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Bo’s a mess sometimes. But, ah, do you think your parents will eat them?”

 

Morisuke sighs. “If you leave right now, I’ll see if my dad’ll eat them.”

 

Kuroo is running to the front door before either one of them says another word.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flirting and unexpected arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I've decided to try to update once a week?? If I keep using writer's block so I don't get distracted I should be able to  
> thank you for all of the feedback/support on the last chapter!! it really got me motivated to write this

He goes back to the convenience store after practice the next day, no reason not to. The silver-haired cashier might be there, he might not. It doesn’t matter, Morisuke just needs more food.

Yep. Definitely just food.

 

He pushes the door open and is met with a face full of warm air. It’s a bit annoying, the few seconds before the door shuts behind him and cold air brushes against the back of his neck, even as his face warms up.

 

As he picks up a basket from the stack beside the door, he doesn’t see the silver haired man, which is all good. It’s _fine._ Yaku hadn’t expected to see him, anyway.

 

He picks up a few packs of _Toppo,_ tosses them carelessly in the basket, not caring if the sticks break.

 

There's soda tossed in the basket as well, along with a few random snacks that he's probably never going to eat. It's thoughtless, wandering through a convenience store in a Tokyo suburb. Morisuke has never had much love for this town, but it has more flavors of _Toppo_ than he knew existed in the word, which, in all honestly, is all a good town needs to please anyone.

 

He stops in from of the shelf stuffed full of ramen, thinks for half a second before grabbing a few packages to round off his collection of groceries. This probably isn't what his parents expected him to do when they gave him a credit card at the end of his first year at Nekoma, but it's better than buying a six pack to get drunk off his ass with Kai and Kuroo.

 

He has tried it before, or at least Kuroo, anyway, and dragged the two other boys along to watch and make sure he didn't die along the way. It didn't end well, and he's pretty sure there's a patch of Kai's carpet that still smells distinctly of vomit and Red Bull, but he started to judge Kuroo long before any of this, anyway.

 

His phone vibrates, a text from Kuroo. He fiddles with it, one handed, deciding whether or not hanging out with Kuroo and Kenma will be worth his time. It probably won't be - the only time he ever agreed to something like this turned into Kuroo eating pizza and laughing until he cried every time Kenma's video game character died.

 

"Did you find everything you need?"

 

Morisuke looks up; he hadn't realized he had already reached the counter. The moment he sees who is speaking, he nearly drops his phone onto the linoleum floor below.

 

"Yeah," he chokes out, cheeks blushing scarlet as he yanks his eyes away from the silver-haired cashier. "Everything was, ah, super easy to find?"

 

_Please end me,_ he thinks, tilting his head down as he hands over his groceries. Morisuke is normally never this bad around strangers, and certainly not some maybe-college kid working as a cashier. He's not sure what about the tall boy is throwing him off, but whatever it is, Morisuke hopes he gets passed it soon.

 

Or, the college kid could just leave already. The libero really doesn't have the time to find a new place to shop, what with the school year starting and volleyball and making sure Kuroo isn't an idiot who gets himself killed.

 

And, there's the _Toppo_ selection. It's pretty great - Morisuke would hate to part with it.

 

"I'm glad!" the cashier smiles widely. His mouth is too big for his face when that happens - it pinches his features, makes his enormous eyes look finite and small, just thin black lines. "Oji-san had me help reorganize and stock over break. I tried to tell him it was dysfunctional, but he was so used to it that he didn't realize until I changed it."

 

Well, fuck. Morisuke didn't mean to congratulate the boy, because now he's smiling even more, with his eyes wide open and sparkling, sending shivers through Morisuke's skin and down his spine.

 

"It's - it's nice."

 

The silver haired boy hums before rattling off Morisuke's total.

 

"If you ever have trouble finding anything, don't be afraid to ask," he says as he hands Morisuke his bags. Their fingers brush for the tiniest instance, but it's enough to leave Morisuke’s arm feeling numb for a long time after the shop door swings shut.

 

...

 

Morisuke yawns as he tightens his tie. It's messy from lack of practice just like it is at the beginning of every school year, but today, the libero is too tired to care.

 

While the volleyball team had been practicing every morning at nine, there is a clear distinction between _"eight am practice that everyone is essentially sleepwalking through"_ and _"eight am advanced English comprehension"_. The two are kept separate by a line that has never been more obvious.

 

_"Mori - ahh,"_

 

The libero isn't going to blame himself for his sleep deprivation. Like with most things in life, Yaku Morisuke is one hundred percent innocent.

 

There's just too much going on, with soulmate tattoos and infatuation with silver-haired shop clerks with pretty eyes and -

 

_"Please - "_

 

Yeah, Morisuke isn't responsible.

 

He's anything but.

 

...

 

Morisuke blames everything that happened for the rest of the day on lack of sleep (not the dreams that he may or may not have had that may or may not have woken him up, sweat-soaked and panting, but just the lack of sleep). It is a reasonable explanation to a series of unreasonable reactions. Besides, he's still young, still has time to grow and mature.

 

Morisuke blames a lack of sleep, and overly tall Russians.

 

...

 

He stumbles into the clubroom that afternoon, clutching a paper cup of cold coffee to his chest like a lifeline. He's not quite sure where it came from, but he's pretty sure a concerned girl in between his Japanese lit and biochemistry classes passed it to him without a word.

 

As soon as his bag is on the bench, Morisuke is shooting back caffeine as fast as he can without choking, wincing at the grainy texture. Cold coffee - intentional or otherwise - has always been a turnoff for the libero, but he's willing to make an exception if it means the difference between being groggy and falling asleep mid-dive.

 

"Hello, Yaku-san!"

 

Morisuke isn't quite sure who it is, the caffeine hasn't kicked in yet, so he offers a feeble wave in the general direction of the voice. It's good enough for a greeting this early, or whatever three thirty classifies as these days.

 

As he tugs on his volleyball uniform, the hazy that had surrounded him all day slowly fell away, until he no longer felt as if he could fall asleep without the slightest bit of warning. A slight improvement, but one nonetheless.

 

There are already people in the volleyball gym when he walks in, helping to set up the net, slinging balls back and forth to warm up their arms, talking to the coach about the plan for the season. Morisuke doesn't understand how any of them have the energy for so much activity, especially when a ball zooms pased, centimeters from his cheek, and he's barely able to summon the willpower to flinch.

 

"Yaku!"

 

Morisuke looks up. There's Kuroo, standing on top of a chair to tighten the top of the net. Kenma is standing close by, holding the clip for the bottom strap of the net.

 

"Are you awake yet?" the middle blocker asks as soon as Morisuke is close enough. "I had Kenma take you some coffee, but I wasn't sure if it was strong enough."

 

"Oh," Morisuke blanks for a moment. "I thought a girl brought it. A - pretty girl?"

 

"Mhm," Kuroo nods, tugging on the net once before jumping off of the folding chair. "Well, I guess Kenma would make a pretty girl."

 

The setter blushes. "Shut up," he mumbles before turning to Morisuke. "Can you kick him?"

 

Grinning, the libero can feel caffeine and adrenaline kicking in at the same time.

 

"Gladly."

 

...

 

Slowly, the new first years file into the gym. Most of them look small and uncertain, while others walk in like the own the place, all because they were the best on their middle school team.

 

Morisuke can't wait to see the cocky ones get their asses handed to them.

 

"What do you think of the new kohai?" Kuroo asks as the stand side by side, surveying the new players. They stand in clumps, whispering back and forth.

 

"I doubt any of them bend their knees when they receive," Morisuke replies, taking his time to familiarize himself with all of the new faces. "It's the same every year: the first years all swing their arms instead of..."

 

He trails off, looking at the doorway. There's no way - no kids look similar to be a sibling, he hasn't heard about any transfer students.

 

But - why _him?_

 

"Yaku?" Kuroo asks. "You okay there?"

 

"Huh?" Morisuke jerks his head back to Kuroo and offers a shy smile. "It's nothing."

 

"It doesn't look like nothing." Kuroo cracks a wry smile.

 

"It's just, umm, thehotcashierishere."

 

Kuroo blinks.

 

Morisuke sighs. "The convenience store near me hired someone, and he's kind of cute, and we kind of flirted, and know he's here?"

 

Kuroo looks over his shoulder before whistling lowly.

 

"Oh oh oh? You're screwed." Kuroo claps his shoulder. "Why I go introduce myself to the new kohai, how about you familiarize yourself with him?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

 

Morisuke groans. He is, without a doubt, well and truly fucked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!! hmu on mother-iwa-chan is you wanna talk anti-raisin or to request a prompt. If you enjoyed this chapter and have a tumblr, it would be awesome if you reblogged [this](https://mother-iwa-chan.tumblr.com/post/152397444338/adronitis-chapter-1-clxude-haikyuu)  
>  link to help support the fic!   
>  
> 
> side note - I need to stop throwing balls at people's faces in my fics. it's bad etiquette. too bad I never went to cotillion


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Volleyball practice.   
> Morisuke wonders why Lev is so terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote this last night then cried about episode 5 of yuuri on ice and chapter 229. also I'm avoiding my history project to work on this. I'm going to fight gates tbh

Practice starts out well enough after the shock convenience store boy gave Morisuke. He's still bitter, still annoyed, but Kuroo says he has always been this way, something about his emotions being concentrated in his short stature. Morisuke doesn't remember what Kuroo said exactly, but he does remember the middle blocker complaining for a week about the bruise Morisuke's kick left behind. 

  


"Welcome to the team!" Kuroo says once all of the new first years have arrived, before beginning to introduce himself, returning players, and the coaches. 

  


Morisuke doesn't pay attention for the majority of it. It's a speech he's heard at the beginning of the year, since he started playing volleyball. Instead, he watches convenience store boy, who watches right back, staring like he can see straight into Morisuke's soul. The feeling is unsettling, to say the least, like one million bugs crawling beneath his skin, searching and prying until he's burned alive. 

  


He jerks his head away from him and tries to shake off the sensation. He's here to play volleyball, not hook up with ginormous first years. Kuroo would never let him hear the end of it if he did. Besides, Morisuke has a soul mate out there, somewhere. They've already met, somehow. It wouldn't be fair to them if Morisuke decided to hit some kouhai ass.

  


Not that he wants to, of course.

  


The boy probably enjoys eating raisins or some shit.

  


Morisuke hopes he likes raisins. He only knows him by his face, and that's becoming increasingly difficult to hate.

  


...

  


They start out with an easy game of pepper. It's a simply drill - someone tosses a ball, someone else bumps it back to be set. When the ball returns to the second person, they spike it back to the first, who digs. 

  


It's a good way to see how good the new players are across the board. 

  


Yaku Morisuke hates it.

  


"It has spiking, Kuroo. _ Spiking,"  _ he complains to the captain. "I'm a libero. It's not my thing. Can't I just practice receives with Kai or something?"

  


Kuroo rolls his eyes. "It's a bonding exercise as well. It'll be good for you. Did you even pay attention when everyone introduced themselves?" When Morisuke doesn't respond, Kuroo clicks his tongue. "Thought so. Go play nice with the children. You're partnered with Haiba Lev, by the way."

  


"Who the fuck is that?"

  


Judging by Kuroo's expression, he doesn't want to know.

  


...

  


"I'm so glad we're on the same team, Yaku-san!" Haiba says as soon as he reaches Morisuke's side. 'I didn't realize you were a third year, though. I thought you were my age." He frowns.

  


"Mhm."

  


"But that doesn't matter, I guess." Haiba perks back up immediately. "I bet you're still really good!"

  


Morisuke inhales deeply, attempts to regulate his heart rate and remain calm. "We need to get started, Haiba-kun. Kuroo - "

  


"You can call me Lev!"

  


"Fine. We need to begin,  _ Lev _ -kun."

  


"Sure!" He nods. His entire body is lanky and thin, like a soggy noodle. The mental image is unappealing overall. Morisuke prays that he'll forget it soon. 

  


"But, ah, what's pepper?" Lev's blush ruins his pale complexion. He looks better like this, Morisuke decides, flushed and embarrassed. Less comfortable, out of his element. 

  


"You're never done it before?" Morisuke's brow wrinkles. It's a fairly universal, but then again, he might just know it by a different name.

  


"This is my first year playing volleyball. A second year said I should try it out since I'm so tall."

  


Morisuke's luck just keeps getting worse. People with sloppy technique and shit receives annoy him. He's not good with teaching for that exact reason. Lev's height definitely won't improve the experience for either one of them.

  


"Oh." His grip on the ball tightens imperceptibly for a millisecond. 

  


"My sister played, though!" Lev's blush disappears, replaced with a glowing smile. "She never wanted to play with me, but I went to a few of her games."

  


"Do you have any idea of what you're supposed to do then?"

  


Lev's grin waves. "Hold my arms together?"

  


Morisuke sighs. He definitely has his work cut out for him, then.

  


...

  


"Don't cross your thumbs unless you want them to break!"

  


The rest of practice is just Morisuke yelling advice - some of it helpful, most of it too advanced to make any sense - at the clueless first year. Lev's long legs make it difficult. He moves fast, but he trips over himself more than he touches the ball. The few times he does get it is either to the face or the gut. When it hits him, he always falls to the ground and moans, even though it was just a light toss from Morisuke a few feet away.

  


"Get up," Morisuke says for what feels like the hundredth time. "Or I'll just throw the ball at your face from here."

  


Lev scrambles to his feet and readjusts his kneepads, bending at the waist.

  


"Bend your knees, back straight," Morisuke chastises. Lev instantly drops into the new position without any hint of complaint. "Raise your shoulders. If you're doing it right, your shoulders should touch your ears every time you bump the ball."

  


Lev wrinkles his nose. "That sounds uncomfortable."

  


"You're the one who wanted to play."

  


Lev follows his direction to the T after that, but even then, the ball still goes wayward, hitting the ceiling or the wall behind Lev. The fifth time it happens, Morisuke is sick of it. He drops the extra volleyball and walks to Lev's side.

  


"You're swinging your arms too much," he corrects the first year, modeling correct posture. "Your arms should go up with your entire body when you straighten your knees."

  


"Got it, Yaku-san!" Lev grins.

  


He doesn't have it - the next ball goes straight into one of the support beams on the ceiling, bouncing off loudly. 

  


"You swung your arms, Lev-kun," Morisuke remarks dryly. "What did I just tell you not to?"

  


"Oops?"

  


Morisuke certainly has his work cut out for himself.

  


...

  


By the end of practice, Morisuke is exhausted even though he was little more than a glamorized ball boy. Lev's receives are still on par with an elementary schooler playing in a gym class, but he's yet to pick up the little hop Taketora does every time the ball comes his way, which counts for something.

  


When it comes time for clean up, Lev nearly walks out of the gym oblivious. It pisses Morisuke off a lot, for some reason. It's his first practice and the first practice of the school year, but cleaning is cleaning - everyone should suffer together.

  


He drags the first year back in by the back of his t-shirt and heads straight for the broom closet. He snatches up the first one he sees and, ignoring the dust, shoves it into Lev's chest.

  


"Go be helpful," he orders, pretending that he doesn't notice the slight tingle he gets when Lev's skin brushes against his. It's just static electricity - winter is only just beginning to end, after all. 

  


"Okay, Yaku-san!" 

  


Just winter; just static.

  


It is the only explanation. 

  


...

  


Almost everyone has already gone home by the time Morisuke makes it to the clubroom. He yanks his practice shirt off without thinking. He freezes when Taketora slaps a hand against his back.

  


"Met your special someone over break?" he asks, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. A few curious faces watch. Kuroo smiles knowingly. "What's the lucky person's name?"

  


"Oh - I haven't really met them yet. Kuroo noticed the other day."

  


"Kuroo noticed? When?" That drew the attention of Kai. "Did you two hook up over break and not tell me?"

  


"What the fuck?" shrieks Kuroo, indignant. "You know I'm matched with - "

  


"Did you already forget all of the flirting from first year?" 

  


Kuroo and Morisuke both reflexively flinch at the same time. The first year of high school is a dark time for everyone. For some reason, however, it hit them unnaturally hard. 

  


"Please don't remind me," Kuroo begs.

  


"Only bring that up when he's drunk," Morisuke counters, earning himself a glare from Kuroo. "He'll already be crying about his cousins not liking  _ Naruto, _ so it can't become much worse than that.

  


All of the first years look significantly scarred, where they're huddling in the corner of the room. Whatever. The sooner they grow accustomed to the team's dynamic, the sooner they can be incorporated. 

  


"I hate all of you so much," Kuroo pouts. "My first day of being captain, and all of my friends attack me. I hope you choke on a raisin and die."

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it??? sorry it's a bit late. kudos are great, comments inspire me to write faster and update more. requests welcome at mother-iwa-chan on tumblr


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *sets aside 3 days this week to write adronitis*  
> also me: *suddenly has to write 10k for my writing lab class by the eleventh*  
> anyway, sorry this took like 2 weeks. school has to come first. also for the shitty formatting. i'm too tired to fix it now  
> EDIT: i don't know why i keep forgetting to mention this, but poly bonds exist. however, your tattoos won't darken until you meet both people!!!

Kuroo's drunk again, talking about some boy from his neighborhood.

 

"He's _ sooo  _ pretty," the captain slurs, head lolling. "I  _ love _ him, Mori-chan. He's so much sweeter to me than you and Kenma are. But he already has a soulmate. She's pretty too, though. But not as pretty as my soulmate will be!"

 

He falls back into the grass and lifts his legs up, shakes his feet back and forth like he's being electrocuted. Eventually, his legs go back too far and his toes touch the ground on either side of his head. 

 

"Ow," he says dimly. "I kneed my face."

 

Morisuke and Kuroo are in the park. It's a little after midnight and far too cold, but Kuroo would still go out even if Morisuke didn't go with him, and that would only end in him getting his stomach pumped. 

 

"You know there's a practice match against Fukurodani tomorrow, right?" Morisuke asks, finally looking up from his phone. He wrinkles his nose in disdain when he spots several empty beer bottles.

 

Kuroo sits up fast, sputtering. "Kou is coming?"

 

"You can't play if you're hung over," Morisuke says just to see Kuroo's face fall. "I'm sure Bokuto-kun will love that. And Kenma, as well."

 

"But how did I forget about Kou?" Kuroo moans. 

 

"Because you're a terrible person who lets everyone down," Morisuke whispers, at the same time Kuroo says it aloud, sobbing.

 

...

 

When Kuroo arrives at school the next morning, he immediately flops down onto a bench in the clubroom. He's wearing dark sunglasses, which Morisuke steals after turning all of the lights on. 

 

"I've thrown up three times today, Yaku," he moans, rolling over and shielding his eyes. "Make it stop."

 

"Stop drinking so much then."

 

Lev comes in a second later, and stops short in the doorway. "Is Kuroo-san dead?" he asks, horrified. 

 

"I wish I was," Kuroo mumbles. "Mori-chan, can you strangle me? Or are your hands too tiny?"

 

"I'll kick you if you keep talking," Morisuke warns as he tugs on his gym shirt.

 

"Just make sure you aim for the throat, then."

 

"Are you two always like this, Yaku-senpai?" Lev asks. Morisuke looks at him, annoyed. Lev is always too awake during morning practices.

 

"No," Kuroo finally replies. "Normally, I don't want Yaku to kill me. Then again, I don't think I've ever been this hungover before."

 

"I hope you get alcohol poisoning and die," Morisuke says before opening the clubroom door to leave.

 

"Thanks, dear, love you too!"

 

Morisuke flips him as he leaves the room.

 

...

 

By the time Fukurodani shows up that afternoon, Morisuke is exhausted. He considers telling Coach Nekomata he's sick, but considering that that's something Haiba Lev would do, he sucks it up and heads to the gym anyway. 

 

Before he's even through the door, Morisuke can hear Bokuto and Kuroo yelling at each other about who has better triceps and thighs. It's a stupid argument - Bokuto does, simply because he does and Kuroo's a dick when it comes to working out - but one that they have every time the two teams meet up for a practice match. 

 

Sometimes, Morisuke wonders how the two captains aren't soulmates. Or, he does until something between them breaks and they won't talk for months like the children they are, only to come back together again like nothing ever happened.

 

"Mori-kun!" The fact that Bokuto picked up on Kuroo's habit of calling Morisuke by his given name but only keeping the first two syllables endlessly irksome, but at least he has the decency to drop the _ -chan. _ "You've grown!"

 

Morisuke suppresses the urge to kick the captain, but only because Coaches Nekomata and Yamiji have just entered the gym.

 

"He's gotten so big," Kuroo agrees, wiping away a fake tear and wrapping his arm around Bokuto's shoulder. "It's hard to believe that he's graduating this year."

 

"We all are," Morisuke says dryly. He hates when Kuroo and Bokuto get along, simply because it always devolves to this - simultaneously acting like Morisuke is infinitely older than them, and that he's a child in need of supervision. 

 

Bokuto swoons and drops all of his wait on Kuroo. "Don't remind me! I can't bear to part from you all."

 

"Don't worry, bro," Kuroo caress the wing spiker's cheek. "I'll always be here for you."

 

Bokuto gasps, blushing slightly. _ "Bro." _

 

"I hate both of you," Morisuke declares before setting off to find Fukurodani's libero, and maybe even purge the memory of Bokuto and Kuroo from his mind.

 

...

 

The first set of the practice match goes well, ignoring copious shit talking from both sides of the net. That's part of what makes these practice games fun, the way each team brings out the best - and worse - in the other. 

 

"Can you hit any harder than that, Bo?" Kuroo calls after he receives the cross easily and sends it to Kenma. Nekoma gets another point, adding to their lead. It's not a lot, only three points - Fukurodani can make it up, no sweat. 

 

"Akaashi," Bokuto pouts to his setter. 

 

"That was a clean toss, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says, brushing hair out of his eyes as he prepares for Nekoma's serve. "Please try to do better on the next one."

 

Bokuto  _ does _ do better on the next one, and the one after that, and the one after  _ that _ . But the again - no one makes to top five out of sheer luck.

 

Bokuto's fourth spike in that run goes straight to Lev, who, to no one's surprise, misses completely. The ball hits his forearms all wrong and goes wayward, hitting the floor ten feet behind the baseline.

 

Bokuto lets out a wild cheer and high-fives Akaashi, who just barely manages to get his hands up in time. 

 

"You're doing much better now, Bokuto-san." 

 

"Ahh, Akaashi!" Bokuto smiles. "What did you think Kuroo?"

 

Kuroo shrugs. "I could have blocked it, if I had been up at the net."

 

"You're just jealous of my cross,  _ and _ my muscles."

 

Kuroo is only silent for half of a second, before roaring with laughter, hard enough to make most of the other players chuckle as well. But even this can't stop Bokuto - he's on a roll now, with no slumps in sight.

 

The next spike goes to Lev again, with the same result.

 

"Pay attention, dumbass!" Morisuke yells from the bench. He knows the first year needs game experience, but if this goes on any longer, the libero will drag Lev off of the court himself, whatever the coaches have to say be damned.

 

Luckily, however, Bokuto has gotten comfortable enough in his cross scoring that Kuroo manages to block the next one, even if it does mean shoving Kai out of the way in order to get the one touch. Taketora gets the chance ball, shaking up Fukurodani enough for Nekoma to steal back the serve. 

 

They no longer have the lead, but Morisuke can breathe easier now, knowing that Bokuto can't keep aiming for Lev. 

 

Nekoma ends up winning the game, but they don't secure their victory until Morisuke is back in the rotation and Lev is subbed out for another first year.

 

...

 

Cleaning up the gym goes by faster than normal, with another team there to help out pack up balls and sweep floors. 

 

Then again, the teams are also motivated by Kuroo and Bokuto serenading each other with a medley of off key  _ Jump In _ and  _ High School Musical _ songs. Bokuto doesn't know half of the words to most of the HMS songs, and Kuroo has never seen  _ Jump In,  _ which leads to their singing and loose interpretation being even worse than the time they sang 80s German synth pop. 

 

Although Morisuke didn't think it was possible, Kuroo and Bokuto were always ones for surprises.

 

...

 

The clubroom is packed when Morisuke's changing; the practice games ended late, and now everyone is itching to get home and eat. 

 

"Do you want some?" Lev holds out a small red box after Morisuke's stomach growls for the third time.

 

"What are they?" He doesn't trust Level with a volleyball, and he sure as hell doesn't trust him with food.

 

"Raisins!" the first year declares, smiling widely.

 

The clubroom instantly silences, and all of the players turn to look at the first year with expressions equal parts horror and disgust, before they swarm on him with the force of a collapsing dam. 

 

"How  _ dare _ you bring that in here? This is a good team!"

 

"That's the Devil's food, Lev-kun."

 

"No wonder you can't receive, eating garbage like that."

 

"Hey!" Kuroo's voice makes everyone quiet down. "We all know that Lev's taste in food is obviously... _ impaired _ , but no bullying on the team, alright?"

 

The team sighs dejected and agrees.

 

"Thank you for offering," Morisuke says a few minutes later. "But, you have to understand why I couldn't accept. Raisins and other dried fruits are the Devil's food, just like Kenma said."

 

Lev blinks. "They are?"

 

Morisuke nods. "They are, so do try to refrain from bringing them back to volleyball."

 

"I will!" Lev pauses, before asking, "should I tell my uncle to stop ordering them for the store as well?"

 

"Most definitely."

 

Once Lev leaves, Kai turns to Morisuke and nods. "You're doing the Lord's work, Yaku."

 

"I try my hardest."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos are cool, i do requests at mother-iwa-chan on tumblr. see you next time!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> repost with edits because I forgot to italicize isn't that embarrassing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm only slightly sorry  
> betad by sarcasticspacenerd on tumblr

It's been two weeks and twelve practices since the game against Fukurodani, and if anything, Lev's receives have gotten worse. 

 

Morisuke is feeling like a broken record, correcting the same motion with the same words day after day, receive after receive. On the rare occasion Lev does something correct, Morisuke is just as surprised as Lev. Morisuke always congratulates him, slaps him on the back. 

 

He hates it in the same way he feeds off of it. The electric current that runs through his fingertips makes him lightheaded and dizzy, burns in his stomach and throat. It's addicting, but  at the same time it makes Morisuke feel like he's standing on the wrong side of a guardrail, with wind tugging at his clothes. He wants things to return to how they were before, five months ago when there was just volleyball and no Haiba Lev, but the first year keeps dragging him out.

 

"He'll get it, eventually," Kuroo tells him.

 

He's standing too close.  _ I have a soulmate, now, _ Morisuke thinks, wants to say. He misses how things were before, back when it was just him and Kuroo, with no faceless person standing just outside of his life, waiting to reshape Morisuke like clay.

 

"He won't get it fast enough, though."

 

Morisuke wishes he could reshape Haiba Lev into a volleyball player, wishes he could give him the skills he so desperately desires. But Yaku Morisuke isn't an artist, and he's not Lev's savior. He's just a seventeen year old, trying to figure out what the world has handed him.

 

...

 

Morisuke met Kuroo Tetsurou at the first Nekoma volleyball practice, back when they were clueless fifteen year olds. Morisuke had hated him on sight.

 

A few of the senpai had joked that they must be soulmates, an old married couple trapped in the bodies of two high schoolers. Morisuke didn't know what to think, but Kuroo had suggested looking at each other's tattoos. When neither of them had yet to darken, both let out a sigh of relief. 

 

Less than a month later, the vice captain found them making out in the club room, and a second year middle blocker found them behind the gym before morning practice. But it's whatever - neither of them had met their soulmate yet. There was no reason to be completely clueless once they found them. 

 

And it was fun, to push each other around for a year. It ended when Kenma graduated from middle school and enrolled in Nekoma. Kuroo didn't want his best friend to have to walk in on that. 

 

Never mind that he had, a few months after the summer tournament, when Morisuke had been over to "study." Kuroo and Morisuke had both failed the test, but at least they had fun and Kenma was able to avoid any sort of social interaction for a few extra minutes until the first years were decent.

 

Sometimes, Morisuke misses that arrangement, when his skin itches, when he's lonely, when he thinks of  - 

 

But then he sees the captain's stupid face and bedhead, and wonders how he ever found Kuroo attractive. Morisuke doubts Kuroo even knows what a goddamn comb is. 

 

...

 

Another practice, another failed receive on Lev's part. 

 

Morisuke is standing on the other side of the net, serving balls to different parts of the court in an attempt to get Lev to  _ move _ . It's not working, which is doing a number on Morisuke's voice.

 

"Move your goddamn feet, Lev!" he yells. His voice is scratchy, but they've been doing this drill for forty minutes and Lev has yet to send a ball to the setter's position. The libero's shoulder is starting to ache from overexertion and his palm is beginning to burn a faint red. 

 

"But I'm tired, Yaku-san!" Lev whines. He's not even bothering to bend his knees at this point. Morisuke serves even further away from the first year than usual on principal.

 

"Yaku-san!"

 

"Then do the drill properly!"

 

Because that's what this has come down to - one genuinely good receive, that would send the ball straight to Kenma, if the setter was still even in the gym. Until then, Morisuke will keep going. It doesn't matter if the rest of the team left thirty minutes ago; Morisuke has a key to lock up with, anyway.

 

Morisuke serves underhand, a bit softer than normal, this time. He's just as tired as the first year, even if he doesn't want to admit it. The ball is close to Lev. It's due to doing a different serve, one where Morisuke's aim isn't  _ as _ good, Morisuke would say if anyone were to ask. But no one is going to - Morisuke and Lev are the ones in the gym, and probably the only people left on campus. 

 

Morisuke definitely doesn't smile when Lev makes the receive, even if he does swing his arms. He moved, and that's the goal. The ball hits the ceiling hard, but lands just a few feet away from where Kenma would be standing for the 6-1 rotation. 

 

"That's good," Morisuke tells him as he returns the volleyball to the cart. 

 

His stomach is turning. He feels like, if he stays any longer, he'll either throw up or kiss Lev, neither of which are okay. 

 

"Once you put up the net and sweep, you can go home."

 

"You're not going to help?" Lev asks, frowning. He looks pitifully, like a child just told the Tooth Fairy, Santa Clause, and the Easter Bunny don't exist. It stirs something deep in Morisuke's stomach; he pushes it down and pretends it didn't happen.

 

"I have college applications to fill out. Don't forget to lock up," Morisuke tells him before walking out the gym, sliding the door shut behind him.

 

"I don't have a key," he hears Lev mumble. 

 

Morisuke doesn't have the heart to go back.

 

...

 

"How late did you and Lev stay last night?" Kuroo asks during lunch the next day. Kuroo is curled up between the two of them, his phone hanging out of his hand. Kuroo tucks it into Kenma's pocket so it doesn't fall and break.

 

"Thirty five minutes?" Morisuke estimates before shrugging. "He still couldn't do it by the time I let him leave."

 

"Probably because he was exhausted," Kuroo chides. "It's still his first year. He's been playing for what, three months? Give the kid a break."

 

"But he could be better," the libero argues. "He's tall, and - "

 

"Is this because of your soulmate?"  Kuroo nearly drops his bento onto Kenma's face. He angrily whispers, "God, Morisuke, we all have our positions. You've been the starting libero for three years for a reason, and it's not the fact that you're short. Height is a noticeable feature, so stop dragging out how your soulmate noticed that first, and stop giving Lev shit because you happen to be self-conscious as fuck and he's a freaking tree."

 

Morisuke stands up and tugs on his uniform jacket. "I don't have to listen to this."

 

"I'll stop saying it when you get over yourself."

 

_ "Fuck  _ you, Kuroo."

 

That wakes up Kenma but he doesn't care. The second year blinks sleepily, before glaring up at Morisuke. He doesn't bother to apologize before he leaves.

 

...

 

Morisuke isn't heartless - no, he's a coward. It's an embarrassing trait for a terrible person, but like Kuroo always says, Morisuke's emotions are concentrated in his short stature. 

 

Nothing good could ever come of that.

 

...

 

Kuroo doesn't let Morisuke keep Lev late at practice that afternoon. Morisuke doesn't really care and doesn't even bother to reply to his captain. He feels drained from what transpired during lunch, and does his best to ignore Kenma's puffy, red eyes. 

 

"Can you help Lev put up the net poles?" Kuroo asks. 

 

Morisuke bites back a scowl. Kuroo knows he can't pick up one of the poles alone - they're too long and unwieldy, which means Lev  _ has _ to help him carry one. 

 

"Lev!" Morisuke calls. 

 

"Yeah?" Lev sticks his head out of the supply closet. He's smiling and cheerful, like he's already forgotten about practice the day before. Morisuke isn't surprised, but he wishes he could repress memories as easily as the empty headed first year.

 

"Can you help me carry this?" He gestures to the pole. 

 

"Of course, Yaku-san!" 

 

Lev running over to the net reminds Morisuke of a nature documentary he once saw. It showed baby giraffes, who tripped over their long legs and feet, sometimes just outright collapsing from their own weight. 

 

Morisuke thinks newborn giraffes are cuter than Lev.

 

Carrying the pole isn't an easy feat. Lev walks too fast with his too long legs, forcing Morisuke to walk quickly into order to not trip. He also tries to direct Morisuke too much, which only results in Morisuke being smacked into the supply room door twice. 

 

Once the pole is on the rack, Morisuke turns around.

 

"Lev, did you close the door?" Morisuke asks. He feels uneasy, but he's not sure why.

 

"No?"

 

When Morisuke realizes the door is locked, there's only one explanation. 

 

"Open the fucking door, Kuroo!" he shouts. When Kuroo doesn't respond, he kicks the bottom of the door. It hurts more than kicking Kuroo's knee, but not much worse.

 

"Not until you and Lev work out your problems!" comes Kuroo's faint reply.

 

"This is BS," Morisuke whispers as he turns to face Lev. 

 

The first year looks nervous. Morisuke wishes he knew the first year well enough to tell if he knew Kuroo's plan or not. 

 

"I'm sorry my receives are so bad," Lev says after a full minute of silence. "I'm trying, but - "

 

"Try harder."

 

Lev winces. Morisuke feels bad for half of a second, until he remembers this is Lev, stupid Lev with his stupid height and stupid face and stupid lack of volleyball talent. 

 

"I am. I've been practicing spiking with Kenma and  - "

 

"There won't be a spike if you can't make the receive."

 

"I guess there won't."

 

It's not until thirty minutes later when Kuroo finally lets them out that Morisuke sees how red Lev's eyes are. It blocks Morisuke’s throat and steals his breath, but he doesn't apologize. 

 

He wishes he did, though, when Kuroo doesn't say a word to him in the clubroom. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rey: W HAT HT E UF KC IS THIS???  
> rey: STOP FUCK IGN A NGSNTING
> 
> anyway have a good day!! leave a comment if you want!!! next update ~thanksgiving!!! also a kylux fic with magic plants around christmas!!! requests welcome in the comments/at mother-iwa-chan on tumblr!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's short and sorry it took so long but i've been feeling shitty and overwhelmed lately and my migraines came back after like 5 years so that's cool  
> also next update won't be until after midterms, so like 2 weeks?? idk sorry

The next day is quiet, all through lunch and lessons. Morisuke doesn't know where Kuroo's wandered off to, and he's not quite sure he wants to.

 

Practice carries on with that trend, with Kuroo  _ and _ Kenma avoiding him. The setter sticks close to Lev and works on syncing to his spike. Kuroo is on the other side of the net, watching, waiting for the receive. 

 

Morisuke wasn't asked to help, he notes as he bites his lips raw. Morisuke doesn't mind. It's just a sport, another line on his college applications.

 

_ Don't mind, don't mind _ \- it's a lesson that volleyball has taught him well.

 

...

 

The train ride home seems to stretch on for millenia. It's crowded - the late rush of Tokyo business men and women - and Morisuke is forced to stand. He's too short to reach the overhead bars, and the poles are surrounded too tightly for him to wedge his way in. Instead, he's left shoved between two men and their briefcases, barely able to stand as the train rocks on the tracks. 

 

He can't see the windows and everything falls under yellow, fluorescent light. Maybe that's a good thing, this sense of containment. The color of the sun without the searing heat, the summer without the bite. The high without the low. 

 

Just good times, and none of the bad.

 

Just the polaroid candids, and none of the ten o'clock newsreel.

 

...

 

He yanks off his suit jacket on the walk home and shoves it deep in his messenger bag before loosening his tie. It's too hot out, even under the twilight sky. His button up sticks to his salty skin. 

 

And when the front door is swung shut and locked behind him, the tie and oxford are lost as well. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry. There's a quick detour for a glass of icy water before he's under his covers. The overhead light comes through the blankets in one million shades of orange. It reminds Morisuke of staring dead at the sun and then squeezing his eyes shut tightly to watch the fiery aftereffect. 

 

His phone vibrates once from his desk, a text message. Again, another text. Again, again, and  _ again, _ Morisuke ignores them all. He's safe here, in his duvet cave. 

 

There's pounding on the door. Morisuke hides through that, as well.  It's a true skill at this point, ignoring text after text, knock after knock. Footstep after footstep, heading up the stairs. Someone sits down on the bed beside his feet. Morisuke can feel the mattress dip.

 

"You're so shitty," the words are followed by a sudden weight falling on Morisuke's feet. 

 

"Go hang out with your setter boy."

 

Morisuke doesn't know how Kuroo hears him, let alone understands. The captain pinches his ankle.

 

"Kenma's already home. He's exhausted, always is after he cries. I thought you knew that."

 

"I didn't mean to make him cry."

 

"No, you didn't." Kuroo sighs. "That's the problem,  _ Yaku-san, _ you never mean any of it. It makes it awfully hard to tell reality from fantasy, Mori."

 

Kuroo stands. The mattress realigns. 

 

"Do try to get over yourself. Volleyball isn't an individual sport, after all."

 

And Morisuke is left behind with his orange light and black sunspots. It's growing hot and stuffy, the air thinning, but Morisuke still won't toss the blankets away. He’s safe down here, in his quilted fortress.

 

...

 

Practice, school, practice, homework, sleep - Morisuke lays out a schedule and conforms to it for all of eight school days. When he and Kuroo are in different classes, and Kenma and Lev are younger, it's easier to avoid them. 

 

But with schedules comes predictability, and with predictability comes room for error. 

 

Kuroo finds Morisuke on the roof, using his bento as a headrest as he watches the clouds overhead. 

 

"You're such a baby," he declares, plopping down next to the libero.

 

"Someone thinks you're short and suddenly it's the end of the world. God, Morisuke - I hate to break your bubble, but a lot of people think your short, and you've never given them so much shit before. So think it through. Why is Haiba Lev special?"

 

_ Why is Haiba Lev special? _

 

He shouldn't be. He's just a high school freshmen who works at his uncle's convenience store. He's terrible at volleyball but thinks he's the team's savior, just like every single other first year ever. 

 

_ He's too small for that much sodium. _

 

As specific as it is, it means nothing - anyone could have seen his bag full of ramen and thought that. But there was someone else that time, someone new. Before he and Kuroo went to the pool, but after the last time he saw his inkless back. He's not quite sure when that was, which does little to ease matters. 

 

But, out of everyone he saw, who sticks out the most? He can only remember - 

 

He sits up quickly, and the world seems to swim at the edges of his vision.

 

"How long have you known?" he asks Kuroo.

 

"That Lev is your soulmate?" 

 

The question makes him wince, but he nods nonetheless. 

 

"A couple of weeks, since I saw his tattoo. It's sweet, Mori-kun. I'm sure he'll treasure it forever. Awfully romantic, and all."

 

For the life of him, Morisuke can't remember what he thought the first time he saw Haiba Lev.

 

"What's it say?"

 

"You'll have to see for yourself. I'm almost positive that Lev would show you if you asked."

 

"I don't want to," he pouts.

 

"Then I guess you'll never have a soulmate."

 

... 

 

It's scary, knowing how close your soulmate it.  _ So _ incredibly close, but if you touch them, they'll shatter. Morisuke has already broken Haiba Lev - getting close will only make it worse. 

 

He bumps against the wall for all of free practice, slowly backing away to make each receive harder than the last. It's a simple drill, but it still improves a skill crucial for liberos. 

 

Lev stops by once, to ask if he could practice with Morisuke. Morisuke shoots him down before he can even finish. Lev's crestfallen look carves a hole deep inside of Morisuke's chest. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but Lev is already gone, back to Kenma and spiking. Morisuke wants to follow and apologize again, loud enough for it truly to have meaning, but it’s too late.

 

It’s not his place, anyway. 

 

…

 

“You need to stop avoiding him,” Kuroo says. They’re at the pool, feet resting just below the surface of the water. Ripples extend from their ankles.

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Kenma found him crying in the bathroom during lunch, yesterday. Wouldn’t let him leave until a few minutes after the bell rung, either.”

 

“You know Lev can be overly emotional.”

 

“Then stop hurting him.”

 

“I’m - “ Morisuke begins to argue but he knows it’s pointless. “I don’t know what to say,” he says instead. It’s an excuse, and a feeble one at that, just like him -  _ heartbreaker. _

 

“Maybe, that’s because you never talk to him.”

 

“I want to, but - “

 

“Then, isn’t that a good place to start? The desire to begin?”

 

He nods - just once. It’s enough for Kuroo to see, and Morisuke doesn’t want him to gloat. 

 

“Then get off your ass and talk to him.”

 

Morisuke is being shoved into the pool before he can reply, and Kuroo jumps in after him, effectively ending the conversation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those who noticed - i've enabled comment moderation for the time being, so think about what you're saying?? i'm doing my best  
> tumblr - mother-iwa-chan  
> comments/kudos/requests r cool i'm gonna go take a nap

**Author's Note:**

> sorry it took so long!! should be around 10 chapters. I'll try to update regularly, or at least more so than seraphim, but school has been crazy this year, so no promises. i hope you enjoy it none the less  
> comments and kudos are always welcomed, requests are accepted at mother-iwa-chan, but no promise on a quick turn around
> 
> EDIT// ok so i should have mentioned this but basically you're born with a tattoo, but it's more like a brand and you can't read it but it's there, but once you meet your soulmate it turns black and you can read it and basically it's your soulmate's first thought when they saw you.


End file.
